a story circles seeking an end

the rise and fall of a dog’s paws as it leaps

through the night, beneath the chill settling

on the shoulders, the summer drawing to

a close, an ending of all that enraptured

my thought, the fire extinguishes again in

the pinch of my thumb and forefinger, time

seems to be turning on my path again, I

can smell its perfume, a plot of my dreams

a movie seen on the TV one lone morning

the past tingles my skin and I wink, repeat

the steps once traversed, crumbling beneath

soon the land will run out and a trench formed

and a true end that be, the black dog heaves,

my feet take me to places unknown (yet known)

ubiquitous eyes trace all that happens, that is,

the fates die by my touch, diffusing into the blurs,

I turn into an Effigy, the moon howls, dreams sleep

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The writer has the right to tell his tale in symbols.The reader has the right to see through those symbols as a part of his own tale.

Battered by my belief, I am whole alone

to get a glimpse of attraction,

that fickle-minded monster that

makes the days miserable, wants

to have a piece of congenial love,

how pitiful is the plight of heart

that gets scorched in the sun of

ignorance, how wretched am I

to try to take things from time

which is not mine, never was

a friend(or not) yesterday evoked me

with words such that substantiates

things I had taken not into account

“A, we always leave you alone and

you do not mind”, I am battered, lost

by the treachery of my belief, my will

to breathe the winds of the company

but tis’ not in my fates, I am frugal, whole

the way I am: plain, sane, full of disdain

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Night-Time Wonderings

There are those moments when you realize that you do not suit the standards set to be followed by you. You are yourself, but not someone who would take the step forth to conquer all the odds. Some people are just meant to be living in a world created within and not that which comes in contact with the many other worlds conjured by the lives of all.

I am an entity like any other. I am no more significant than an ant trampled beneath my feet. To realize the insignificance of things and of your life, you come to accept yourself, even if your understanding is embedded in darkness and isolation. Is it bad to let the days go by with limbs measuring the length and breadth of bed? Does inactivity exist when the mind continues to whirl images of memories, of desires unfulfilled, of unreachable dreams?

Every thought is contradictory, because there is not a basic idea or emotion or feeling to guide a life. We are humans and thus, we are entangled in the branches of the ideas and emotions and feelings. There is no right answer because there is no right question. Everything is the same, everything is different: Life just can’t be understood.

Who is to measure the worth of a life lived in play? Who is to measure the waste of a life lived in inactivity? What needs to be done? Which direction of the contradictions to cling to?

I am drifting to sleep, I am singing to myself, I am thinking. What needs to be done? What should I do? Where am I? Where am I to go from here?

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that justice which engorges rationale/ a beast appears- I am a vampire (Part 2)

college

┬áPale face with kohl in eyes, I am on the right…

a face with no color, pale that I become

in the evening when sun petals have scattered

amid the clouds, I walk through crowds showing

a glimpse of my crimson lips and dark eyes

.

people avert their gaze from me, I am peculiar

in the land of gentle folk, a bane, a truth

that no one stares at, no one has that restrain,

my palms are the sheets of days and nights

obscured in the mist of the now, I can’t escape,

my desires unfulfilled, words only creating a hum

.

as the night darkens and the owl hoot is heard

in the dazzling dance on the carpets, where we stand,

I wave my hands, take a leap like a doll extended

beyond the lines of rationale, lost in the moment

whence a shot captures me, I am a vampire,

“A picture please…”, “Oh! You look like a ghost”:

path traverses out, a new phase of life begins

.

is this that justice, showered by twinkling eyes

and nodes of narcissism jutting out of one and all

and same as me, deriving beauty in lonesome lies

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This is the second in the series titled, I am a vampire. If it happens to be so and if the muse allows me to do so, I would like to continue further with it. You can also read the first poem in the series: justice wrought as words tumble out/ at least for now- I am a vampire (Part 1)

The above picture was clicked on our Freshers’ evening. The theme was: Halos and Horns. I had a hurried day and within a span of five minutes, I tried to mold my face into a caricature of the light and dark which resides in us. And “they” once again said that I look like a vampire. If my mouth was open, you would have got a better glimpse as to why that comment has been directed to me. ;)

justice wrought as words tumble out/ at least for now- I am a vampire (Part 1)

a worm bite it is as I take rounds around the walking path

of the garden where the mutts shout, reclaim their territory,

I get the notion to return back and open the empty pages

so to absorb their whiteness through my trembling fingers

as they begin to trot on their own accord, a voice found

some words to relinquish my thirst, my loquacious desires

.

“You look very much like a vampire,” a class mate says to me,

I make the gesture of biting my own wrist so that the blood

shall run free, and sniff the air of imaginative dreams

“Hello, unique,” a mate calls me out from the crowd

and I embrace his title for me, the uniqueness imbued in us all

struggling to sore out in the form of an image

to represent the remains that are left of me

.

how little I know my vanity, how much I know my individuality,

sins I create, sins I commit, I am pardoned by my justice

that stings like the worm bite and I caress it incredulously

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Thank you so much for your support. I haven’t replied to your kind comments in my previous post but I have embraced your love and the beauty of your kind words.
This poem here is a part of a series of poems: “I am a vampire”. I have already written the second part as well. So, it is final that it would at least have two parts and if it happens to be so, I would like to continue further with it.

Nowadays

The daily routine comes along and sometimes, it takes away all those things from you that you cherish and treasure beyond anything else. This blog has been my friend since the last three years. I recently had my 3rd anniversary on WordPress. And today, I find it so difficult to share some words here. There has been a slight shift in the activities that I indulge in to keep this life going.

I have started my college life now. And my entire day is spent there, from 9 to 5. After that, there is nothing much left to do. I eat. I read a few articles online. I watch some TV. I research for college work. I sleep. Another day begins and the routine shadows me once again. I have ached for this routine during some of the hardest days in the last couple of years and now when I have found it, I am rather disturbed and a little perturbed by its presence. May be it is because this routine has left so little of time that I could spend with myself. I think I had become quite habitual to entire days which I lived in company of no one but that of my own. The solitude had become a part of me, inseparable from me, that now I search for it here and there.

I am studying Hotel Management. I joined this course, thinking that it would make me active and practical, garnering skills necessary for this service industry. I won’t go in detail but I don’t feel the same anymore. Though I still find some subjects interesting, like the Front office operations and Food Production. The work has been rather theoretical by now but I know that it will change with time.

Such things are trivial. But the major concern is the gruesome result of these bursts of active participation in these days, I am not writing. I haven’t written a complete poem since long. Some fragments do tear themselves away from me at certain stances and that is all. I want to grieve for this loss that I am experiencing. But I am not feeling anything at all.

I am just another body, unconsciously counting the seconds. I am a soul, who can’t be satisfied. I am the flesh that is just meant for the physical domain. I am a heart writhing and singing, unheard. My pulse continues. I am alive. I breathe. I look at the snapshot of a day at a time. The past is erasing some of its own lines. The future is out of my reach. The present is me. I flow with the tides of time.

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